


There is No Pain where Strength Lies

by orphan_account



Series: Bound in Service [3]
Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Anal Sex, Emotional Abuse, M/M, Non-consensual sex, Oral Sex, Rape, Sadism, Sexual Abuse, Stripping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 01:02:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12222570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A disarmed and distracted opponent is vulnerable to assault as Roger teaches Alex.





	There is No Pain where Strength Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Please be aware that this story is filled with abuse and generally troublesome content. If this will be triggering for you, please refrain from reading.

No Pain where Strength Lies

“It’s been such a long time since we practiced your sword work.” Roger’s arm snaked around Alex’s slender shoulders as he steered Alex into a cool, damp underground practice court. Gliding his fingers across Alex’s collarbone, he purred more like a wildcat than a kitten, “Take off your shirt.” 

A tremor in his fingers more from fear than from the chill of the practice court, Alex obeyed. Roger staring at him as if he were a succulent morsel at a banquet to be devoured only slowed his stripping even further. When his nipples were exposed to the cool air, they hardened, and Roger smirked at the sight as if he imagined Alex was aroused rather than mortified at undressing beneath Roger’s hungry gaze. 

“Excited to start, I see,” drawled Roger, pinching Alex’s perked nipples before removing his sword from its scabbard and gesturing for Alex to do the same. 

They bowed to each other, and then, in one seamless motion, Roger swung his sword at Alex, who parried and launched an attack of his own. Roger’s sword flashed backward, and Alex lurched into the opening offered by Roger’s retreat only to find his weapon again tangled with Roger’s. As Roger hacked at Alex’s ankles, Alex responded by leaping smoothly onto an oak bench, seizing the high ground in order to whack at Roger. That advantage was short-lived, however, as a grunting Roger jumped onto the bench, and their blades clashes in a flurry that ultimately forced Alex to somersault off the bench. 

This maneuver gave Roger the opportunity to cut beneath Alex’s right nipple and scarlet blood oozed out. “I draw first blood.” Roger sneered as Alex bit back a howl of mingled agony and fury. “Don’t tell me you’re hurting, Alex.” 

“Why would I be hurting?” Alex recovered enough to push Roger back with a sharp thrust of his sword. “Just because I’m bleeding doesn’t mean I’m hurting, Your Grace.” 

“That’s what makes you special, Alex.” Roger’s sword happen at the slice under Alex’s nipple. “You consider that to be a mere flesh wound. You know there is no pain where strength lies, but let’s see how strong you really are, shall we?” 

Alex would have tried refusing if Roger hadn’t exploited his distraction to kick his sword out of his grasp. 

“A distracted opponent is vulnerable to unfathomable and endless assaults.” Clucking his tongue in chastisement, Roger curled his fingers around the laces to Alex’s breeches. As he untied them and yanked Alex’s breeches down to his quavering kneecaps, rendering Alex unable to fight or flee if he had dared to even make such an attempt against a knightmaster who was nephew to the king, Roger asked, “Do you understand what men do to their defeated foes, my dear little squire?” 

Too numb to speak—which might have been a blessing in disguise from a merciless god because his voice would have trembled like pudding—Alex shook his head mutely. 

“So naive. They, of course, plunge their swords into them.” Roger twisted Alex around so that his bare backside faced the duke. Alex could hear the sound of Rogers unlacing his own breeches, and, mind clouding with panic, he finally tried to run away but tripped over his own clothing into an ungainly heap on the floor. 

Alex’s teeth smashed against each other and every bone in his body protested as he crumbled against the stones. Before he could rise, Roger, erection throbbing at Alex’s naked asshole, dropped on top of Alex. As his dick tore into Alex and Alex wondered whether he might rip from top to toe, Roger, nipping at the nape of Alex’s neck, growled, “If you get distracted in a fight, Alex, your opponent will undress you, tear into your body, and sheathe his sword in you.” 

Roger’s hips rammed Alex’s ribs into the floor so harshly Alex was afraid they would break, and, as his own cock was slammed into the stones so viciously that it swelled with bruises Alex knew would look like plums tomorrow, Alex separated his brain from his tortured body, narrowing his world so that it consisted only of the faint coating of moss he could feel beneath his fingers as he clutched onto the unrelenting stones that were the only cold comfort he could cling to as Roger’s thrusts became still more violent as he reached his climax, panting, “I’m teaching you a hard lesson so you don’t get killed in the field, Alex. You owe me some gratitude.” 

Alex couldn’t bring himself to thank the man who was violating him. Somehow that felt like even more of a dishonor than being raped. 

Roger didn’t seem to expect an answer. Instead, he spun Alex around and jammed his penis into Alex’s mouth. “Be a good squire, Alex, and clean my sword.” 

Alex tasted his own blood and the saltiness of what he thought was Roger’s semen but might have been his own tears because Roger stroked his cheek and then cradled Alex’s quivering chin between his palms, crooning, “Remember there is no pain where strength lies.” 

Alex told himself that he was strong and that he could not feel the rip in his anus or the blood trickling down his legs in a warm stream like piss. He was a sword, and a sword shed no tears and never bled.


End file.
